


A Man I Need

by ProbablyMisha



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Love, M/M, Normal Life, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Therapy, Will Graham needs therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyMisha/pseuds/ProbablyMisha
Summary: When Will's psychiatrist refers him to a new, male psychiatrist, Will is skeptical. He approaches their meeting with caution. But maybe a man to tell his problems to is just what the doctor ordered.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. Meeting 1

"I'm referring you to a new psychiatrist," she said, looking slightly remorseful. Will looked at her blankly, because he was unable to process the information at first. She lowered her gaze, fiddling with the edges of her notebook, dogearing the pages. "He's well versed in our field. Revered. He's a forensic psychiatrist, so he may better understand your situation."

"So, you're breaking up with me?" He asked, smiling awkwardly. She didn't speak, only looking up out of curtesy. Will sighed, pressing two fingers to his right temple. "No, I understand. It's just.. I've been seeing you for so long. I'm hard-pressed to find a reason why you would do this now."

"Well," she exhaled deeply, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs at the knees. "I feel you don't get much out of our relationship. I believe you'd be more open when discussing your issues with a man. Beyond that, the man I've sent your referral to is much more educated in matters relating to your work, and could be of better help to you when sorting out your thoughts. I know there's a lot going on up in that head of yours, and I feel how you've been retreating these last months can be attributed to my lack of understanding and knowledge in your field."

Will sighed, turning to face the window of her small office. He focused in on a couple of birds sitting in a small nest, they were so unself-aware, at peace. Everything must be so simple for them. He wonders why things can't be as simple in his own life. "Okay, thank you."

She continued to watch him, accessing his reaction to the news he'd just been given. She knew he would not take the news well. Will has never seen a male psychiatrist, it's always been so much easier to speak to women. Women are easier to talk to, and having life explained to him by a man has never been appealing. But, that's the beauty of therapy, if you don't like your psychiatrist you can just get rid of them. He might as well give this man a go.

"And, um," he said, turning back to face the woman he'd come to know. But, now he realizes more than ever that he's never really known her. She knows him far more personally than he does her. "What's his name?"

\--

"Hello, I'm Dr. Lecter. It's nice to meet you Will," says the psychiatrist as he greeted Will at his office door. He extended his hand to shake, but Will did not. The man gave him a relaxed smile, lowering his hand and stepping to the side for Will to make his way in. "I understand that you were referred to me by a Dr. Martin. Do you want to talk about that?"

Will remained silent, stepping into the room before peering up at the overhead bookshelves. He gazed around at the décor as the door shut behind him, and then he met eyes with two chairs facing one another.

"Nice office," Will said, crossing the room to the ladder leading to the interior balcony. He touched the wood, feeling it with two fingers before sliding the ladder to the left. He slowly dropped his hand, glancing upwards to the roof.

"I'm glad you like it," Dr. Lecter said, walking over to his chair. Will tilted his head towards him, lowering his eyes to the ground. "I believe it's a luxury to enjoy the space you work around. Not a necessity. Do you enjoy your workspace, Will?"

"I like your accent," Will changes the subject back to the psychiatrist, turning around to face him. They look at each other for a moment as Dr. Lecter took his seat, resting his notebook in his lap. Will briefly admired his suit and the way he presents himself. A well dressed, well mannered man. "Denmark?"

"Correct," Dr. Lecter said, pursing his lips a little. "Why don't you take a seat?"

"I prefer to stand," Will said dismissively, walking past the chair and over to Lecter's desk. He reached out to the wood, pressing his hand against it. It was cold on his palm, and he focused on the feeling as he stared at the well organized office supplies. "Rosewood."

"I see you have an eye for luxury items," Dr. Lecter observed, watching Will as he tapped on the desk with his knuckles before removing it completely. 

"I see you have a taste for luxury items," Will countered, glancing up once more. Dr. Lecter smiled, tapping his pen against the cover of the journal. "She felt I was pulling away because she doesn't understand my profession. Dr. Martin."

"And were you?" Lecter asked, flipping to the first page in the empty book. Will stares at his hands, watching as the psychiatrist wrote something on the empty page. He tried to read what was written but him being the distance away that he was, coupled with Lecter's neat cursive, he couldn't read what it said from this angle.

"On that door," Will said, clearing his throat as he walked back in the direction of the windows, tucking his hands in his pockets as he continued. "It says 'Dr. H. Lecter'. So that would be?"

"Hannibal, Dr. Hannibal Lecter," the doctor humored him, glancing back up at his patient.

"I'm not sure, Dr. Lecter," Will said, his mind returning to the previous conversation. "I mean, I'm not sure if I was pulling back as much as she was misreading the situation. I wasn't bothered by her lack of understanding. Most people don't. Understand me I mean."

"You're used to those you care about not understanding you?" Dr. Lecter asked, watching as Will suddenly turned. Something seemed to have changed now because Will decided to take a seat. He gripped the armrests, still averting his gaze.

"I didn't care much for her," he said, biting his lip. Dr. Lecter cocked his head slightly, any normal patient wouldn't catch it, yet Will did. Will's eyebrows twitched as he looked up at the slight change, then he turned away again. "I've been seeing psychologists and psychiatrists since I was a little boy. I never cared much for the individual then and I don't now."

"You hold no qualms over being rejected by your previous psychiatrist?" Dr. Lecter asked, glancing back down to the paper. 

"No, of course not," Will frowned, glancing down to his hands as he placed them in his lap. "I never thought of it like that. Like rejection. If she doesn't understand me then she doesn't understand me." 

"Are most of the psychiatrists you invest in women?" Dr. Lecter asked, writing something once more. Will frowned once again, glaring at Dr. Lecter hands.

"Can you not do that? Write. It's just that I'd prefer we have more of a one-on-one discussion," he said, softening his gaze as Dr. Lecter looked up into his eyes. "If that's okay with you."

"I'm sorry, you're right," he smiled, shutting the cover before placing it on the table beside him with the pen on top. "How very rude of me. I apologize."

"No, it's fine," Will said, clutching his hands together. "Um.. all of my previous psychiatrists were women, but that's how I liked it."

"Will, tell me about your mother," Dr. Lecter said, wrapping his hands around his knee. Will pressed his thighs together, awkwardly biting his bottom lip.

"Why?" Will asked, uncomfortable. Dr. Lecter looked thoughtful for a minute, as if trying to find the right words as not to frighten Will away, but encourage him to open up.

"Well, I'm interested in getting to know you better, and learning how you were raised may help me with that," he said, gauging his patients reaction.

"My mother was distant, I didn't care much for her," Will said, looking back at Dr. Lecter as the man simply stared. When Dr. Lecter didn't speak, Will felt compelled to fill the silence, so he continued. "My mother wasn't interested in being a mother. Any words she did speak to my sister and I were usually painful."

"Care to elaborate?" Dr. Lecter asked, and it was Will's turn to remain silent. He didn't care to elaborate, no. So, Dr. Lecter sighed and sat up straighter, giving Will a smile. "What about your father?"

"He was kind, he took me fishing," Will said, fond at the memories. Will soon found himself frowning and turned his gaze to the floor. He rubbed his knees with both hands and bit back his sadness. "And then he passed away."

"I see," Dr. Lecter spoke, and Will didn't see his face, but he heard the spike of interest in the doctor's voice. "So you were always closer to your father when you were a young man?"

"Yes, but also no. It wasn't until my dad passed away that my mother became as cruel as she did."

"May I make an observation that may offend you?" Dr. Lecter asked, wanting to speak his deduction aloud but also wanting to be considerate of his patient. 

"Observe away," Will said, spreading his thighs a little and throwing his head over the backrest of the chair.

"Could it be that you look for the approval you lacked from your mother in the form of female psychiatrists? Paying them to listen to you speak because you've been so neglected?" Dr. Lecter asked, watching Will as he put both his hand between his thighs, holding them there for a moment before throwing them back behind the chair as well.

"That's an interesting theory," Will sighed, not looking at the man. "But what's your evidence?"

"I find when most people yearn for something that they lack, they attempt to fill the void by substituting it for the real thing," Dr. Lecter said, parting his crossed legs and planting both feet on the ground.

"What are you yearning for?" Will asked, tilting his head forward once more. He gazed up at Hannibal, a curious expression on his face.

"I'm afraid this isn't about me."

His first meeting with Dr. Lecter continued like this until the end where he checked his watch and regarded Will with a smile. "Well, that's time."

"It feels like I've been here forever," Will said, standing up. He reached his hands in the air, stretching as Dr. Lecter made his way across the room, waiting for Will to join him. Once Will was at his side, Dr. Lecter open the door, smiling once more.

"Will I see you next week?" Dr. Lecter asked, genuinely curious. Will seemed to be an interesting patient, and he's barely scratched the surface. To be honest, he hopes Will will say yes.

"I'll think about it," WIll said, pressing his hands into his pockets. "But keep me booked in. The worst that can happen is that you get an hour off."

With that, Dr. Lecter opened the door as they stared at each other, the doctor's next patient watched them with a curious look on her face, standing slowly as Will walked out of the room and into the waiting room. She then took his place as he left, walking into the office. And Will smiled as he heard the woman say. "Oh my god, Dr. Lecter. That's got to be the most attractive person I've ever seen in real life."

Dr. Lecter only replied with faint disinterest. "What have I told you about showing up to your appointments half an hour early?"


	2. Meeting 2

"I take the knife," Will said, pulling the knife back at his side, "and I slice my initials into her bare chest."

L.N. 

"I stab her in the heart," he brings the knife down, stabbing her in the chest, once, twice, three times. She screams and thrashes around, begging him to stop as he ends her life. He thinks about the way she was killed, opening his eyes and taking another look around the crime scene. This was a sacrifice he realizes. 

"Jack," Will calls out, turning to face him as he approaches. When Jack reaches his side, they both peer down at the lifeless corpse together. "L.N. those are initials. The person that did this wanted someone to know who they were. This was a sacrifice, whoever did this was trying to prove something to someone they trusted or admired."

"You're sure?" Jack asked, trying to ignore how rude he thought it was that Will was now taking his phone out of his pocket to send a text. "And this is.. can you put the phone away?"

"Sorry, I was just texting my psychiatrist to let him know I won't be coming in," Will said, about to send the message when Jack stopped him.

"You don't usually see your psychiatrist on Mondays.. and, wait, a man?" Jack asked, confused.

"It's okay, I'm cancelling it anyway," Will said, about to sent he message once more when Jack grabbed his wrist.

"No, you go, we can talk about the case later if you need to go now," Jack said, looking sure of himself. Will wanted to argue but he knew there'd be no use. There's never any point in attempting to change the Jack's mind. He was like a rock when it came to being sure about something. He seldom let's opinions change his view of the facts.

..

"You came," Dr. Lecter said, inviting Will in. Will sighed, walking into the office with the psychiatrist behind him.

"You surprised, Hannibal?" Will asked, freezing in his tracks. "Is it okay if I call you Hannibal?"

"Yes, it's fine," Hannibal said, shutting the door and following Will to the chairs that sit facing one another. "Pleasantly surprised. You didn't seem too sure you were going to come in today, last we spoke. What changed your mind?"

"I was at a crime scene staring down at this dead woman when I thought about my meeting with you. I took my phone out to text you to tell you I couldn't come, I was then told I should go," he said as he took a seat in the chair opposite Hannibal's. "There's no reason to argue. Besides, the woman was in no rush."

"So, your job?" Hannibal said, taking a seat his own chair. He unbuttoned the button in his jacket as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs over one another. "How is that going."

"The teaching job or the detective one?" Will asked, smiling humorlessly.

Hannibal thought for a moment. "Both."

"Teaching is my passion. I share my thoughts and I give insight about previous cases. My detective job is a lot more complicated. People think I'm a freak but I'm just doing what I do best," Will reasoned, relaxing when Hannibal didn't speak a word of resistance to his statement. 

"You feel attacked," Hannibal pointed out, pressing the end of his pen against his bottom lip. The book lay dormant on the side table, just as Will had wanted it the first time around.

"Aren't I?" Will laughed uncomfortably, looking towards the window as light poured through the open curtains.

"Not here," Hannibal said, lowering the pen and gazing down at it as he took it in both hands. Will couldn't help by be amused by the fact that even the pen was expensive. "What is it about your job do the people around you think makes you a freak?"

"I have this thing," Will said, tilting his head down as he focused on a loose thread in his jeans. "It's an empathic disorder. I understand too much."

"You can put yourself in the shoes of the depraved," Hannibal said, now with more understanding. "It's good you chose this path, Will. Plenty of people have gifts and special skill sets, but not everyone uses their strengths for good."

"Understanding their point of view means understanding why they do it," Will said, looking up to Hannibal as he took a deep breath. "And how they do it."

"Often the key to knowing is understanding why," Hannibal observed, smiling softly. "I want to understand you Will."

"Yes," Will exhaled deeply, watching Hannibal as he placed his pen onto the book beside him. "I see. I'm paying you to understand me, so that's good."

"Yesterday you spoke of a sister," Hannibal said, remembering the notes he'd taken yesterday after Will wasn't around and his other patient had left. He wrote a mental note to asked about the sister knowing that he couldn't very well pull out the notes while chatting with the man. Will clearly likes his relationships with his psychiatrists to feel more personal. Hannibal, for now, is happy to play that role for the man in front of him. "Do you two speak?"

"We have words," Will frowns, turning away. He does that often, turns away when things are uncomfortable. Hannibal took note of that too. Could be his way of running away from uncomfortable issues without actually up and leaving. It's a sign of clear discomfort that Hannibal doesn't overlook.

"So you aren't close?" Hannibal asks. Will keeps his eyes on the window, not looking back at Hannibal. Then he stands, making his way to the ladder. Just as he had last week.

"Can I go up?" he asked, already climbing before Hannibal could respond. They didn't speak again until Will was looking down at the doctor from above, slowly making his way around. "We were close, but we had a bit of a falling out. I was a police officer, she didn't like that. She always told me I would get myself killed and that me being a police officer was a bad thing. I disagreed."

"That you'd get killed or that it was a bad thing?" Hannibal asked, gazing up at Will until he walked out of sight, then he lowered his head and looked off to the side.

"Both," Will said from somewhere up and behind him. Will was looking down at the back of Hannibal's head, eyes focused on the man as he sat elegantly sprawled in his spot. Will has only had a week to think about how he feels about all this, and he still isn't sure what to make of having a male psychiatrist. Talking to a man for a change has been interesting.. however, he still feels it's difficult to open up. The man below was ready to listen, but whenever Will had a female psychiatrist to talk with, he found the need to open up peculiarly hard to resist as opposed to now where he feels he has nothing interesting to share. But, he still finds himself compelled to speak to Dr. Hannibal Lecter, even when the man seems so condescending to Will. Like he knows too much about Will without even being told. "She thought my empathy would lead me to siding with the criminal subject more than law enforcement. I thought that was insensitive of her."

"Sometimes people say things out of fear and desperation that isn't a true reflection of the way we feel," Hannibal said, tilting his head a little towards Will. Will then turned, plucking a leather-bound book from the shelves behind him. He flipped it open, busying himself by skimming through the pages. It was a book about human psychology and Will found many interesting pictures of the human brain on his way through. "Perhaps she meant well, but didn't say what she meant in the way she meant it?"

"No, I know exactly what she meant," he sighed, pressing the book back into the space it'd came from. He touched his fingers against the spine of a few others until he grew distracted at the sound of footsteps.

"Do you always say what you mean?" Hannibal asked, and his voice was much closer now. Will turned and found him on the opposite balcony, having climbed up and was now making his way over to Will.

"Mostly," Will said, he then conceded, rolling his eyes as Hannibal reached his side. "Well, no. But I never go out of my way to offend someone the way she offended me."

"You believe she meant to upset you?" Hannibal asked. Will looked up at him, as he took a new book from the wall. This book was an old medical journal. He skimmed this one too as Hannibal tucked his hands in his pockets and watched Will curiously.

"I don't know anymore," Will said, shutting the book but keeping hold of it. "I mean, she's become more like my mother as she's grown up. I would not be surprised in the slightest if she meant to hurt me."

"Is there anyone in your family your feel particularly close to?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Will observed, pressing the book back into it's place as well before leaning against the balcony. "So, what? Get me to talk while I get nothing in return?"

"Well, what would you like?" Hannibal asked, settling against the bookshelf opposite Will.

Will thought for a moment, allowing the silence to consume him before he shared his thoughts, smiling softly at the doctor. "Talking with you makes it feel so.. so clinical, like I'm some mental case you're trying to work through. I want this to feel normal. Would it at all be possible for you to give a little more personality? I know you're my psychiatrist and that's just all this is, but I'd appreciate a little more give instead of just take."

"My giving to you is that I'm an ear to listen to you when you need someone to talk to," Hannibal reasoned, crossing his legs at the ankles. "I'm payed to help you work through your thoughts and process your issues. I'm not your friend, Will."

Will pursed his lips to hide his frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at Hannibal. Hannibal looked indifferent, watching Will as he waited for a response.

"You're right," Will said, walking past Hannibal and back in the direction of the ladder. "Yeah, I don't even know why I bother to see a psychiatrist. You're not helping."

"All I'm saying to you is that we're here to talk about you," Hannibal said, not following Will as he watched him climb back down the ladder to the ground. Will began making for the exit and Hannibal frowned, stepping towards the railing and gracing himself against it. Will reached the door, leaving Hannibal to have to hang over the edge to see him. "I'll keep you booked in for next Monday. If you want to talk then, then I'll be here."

Will ignored him, shutting the door behind him and leaving Hannibal to himself. He sighed, putting his hands back in his pockets as he stood up straight, gazing around the room quietly as he wondered about Will, and whether he may return.


	3. Meeting 3

Will held no intention of turning back to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. His last meeting with him was rather unpleasant and the thought of returning was, to say the least, an uncomfortable one. So, Will spent his Monday evening in bed with a hand down his pants. He isn't proud of it, but all his sexual frustration tends to build to this particular climax. No pun intended. With no friends or romantic entanglements to speak of, Will is left to his own devices.

He cums, but there isn't any sexual satisfaction there. He feels more on edge, and far more guilt than is normal of a grown man for jerking off. And then he rolls over and tries to get some sleep. There’s no leads on the case he’s on and Jack had rather firmly told him to “go home and take a fucking nap or something”, when Will was close to passing out whenever he was standing still. So here he is, sleeping. Or, rather more accurately, pretending to sleep.

He’d still have half an hour left if he was standing in Lecter’s office. The man would chat with Will and patronize him in a way none of his female psychiatrists ever did. Will had already spent the past week looking for a new one, and he booked an appointment with a female psychiatrist for the following day. Whenever he was with the women he saw, they were kind and gentle with him. They led him to his own conclusions and made him feel like he was.. doing something. Something to help himself, guiding him. Hannibal comes to his conclusions and leads you to them with a slight shove. Will isn’t a fan of that approach. It comes on a little strong.

...

When Will made it to the psychiatrist’s office, it felt extremely close to an ambush. There sat Hannibal Lecter with Will’s new, female psychiatrist. He sat in the seat opposite hers like he was her patient. And even though the door was open, when he walked in they looked at him like he was an intruder. Will stared at them, confused as they both made to stand. Hannibal in his elegant suit and her in her professional skirt and blouse.

“Ah, Will Graham? Right on time. This is Dr. Lecter, an acquaintance of mine. He was just leaving,” she said politely, placing a hand on Hannibal’s lower back to lead him out. But, Hannibal didn’t move. He buttoned one of the loose buttons on his suit jacket and gave Will a smile.

“So I take it I can open my Monday evenings back up?” He asked, and the female psychiatrist, who’s name was Millie Henries, furrowed her brows in confusion as she looked between them.

“No,” Will said uncomfortably, folding his hands innocently behind his back. “No, you still have me booked in next Monday. I’m just keeping my options open.”

Hannibal kept his smile, regarding the woman with a nod before walking over to the door. He put his hands in his pockets, studying Will with a cool, relaxed gaze. And then he was leaving with only a simple, “good day,” as he disappeared from view.

Will frowned, looking after him before stepping into the office. “Close the door behind you, Will.”

“An acquaintance?” Will asked, taking a seat opposite hers as she did the same. “So, is he always so.. I don’t know.. aggressive in his sense of superiority?”

“I find some people appreciate a firm hand to help them achieve clarity. Authority figures are highly respected because of their perceived strength and control, in that same way, Dr. Lecter is respected for his sense of strength and stability with the patients he treats,” she said, getting comfortable before taking out her notebook. Will roles his eyes at that, he hates the note-taking. It’s so cliché and impersonal. “But he is not my patient. You are. And right now I’m more interested in you.”

Will is silent for a moment, watching the way she flips open her notebook. It’s new and she’s now writing the date on the first page. Will thinks that people put too little value in things like this, like tainting the very first page of a book with lead. It’d been so perfect until the stillness of the page had been interrupted by the here and now.

“I don’t know if Hannibal’s therapy agrees with me,” Will admitted, sighing as he crossed his hands in his lap. “Do people really like to feel like they’re being talked down to?”

“Some people like to feel as though someone more powerful than themselves is interested in what they say and do,” she said, writing something down.

“Same reason people believe in God I think,” Will said, frowning once more as he glared at the book in her lap. “Can you please put that away?”

“It’s important I take notes,” she said, writing something once again. “For documentation purposes.”

“Dr. Lecter put it away when I asked,” Will pointed out, gazing into her green eyes when she looked up at him. “He said that he was sorry for being rude.”

“Well, I’m not Dr. Lecter,” she said, smiling softly before going back to what she was writing. Will had never had a problem with other psychiatrists and note taking. They usually stopped when asked, some didn’t take notes at all. This woman ignoring his request did upset him a little. But, he powered through the session and left her office feeling drained. Nope. She wasn’t going to work.

..

When Monday came back around, Will was sitting in Hannibal’s waiting room feeling a little guilty for what he did. He’d gone behind the man’s back and attempted to replace him after only one and a half sessions. That wasn’t very kind of him. He’d purposely missed the third session entirely with even giving a reason why, nor notice, which was not very nice. He felt he’d have to explain himself.

Dr. Lecter opened the door with a smile, greeting him like usual. Except, this time he left Will at the door and made his way back inside without the patient. Will felt a lump forming in his throat, slight anxiety rising within him as he shut the door behind him. He stood awkwardly as Hannibal looked up, leaning against his desk. He had his feet crossed one over the other, and his hands were in his pockets. He looked so dapper and upstanding. Will felt a little underdressed in comparison.

“I’m sorry for Monday,” Will said, eyes flickering away from Hannibal out of guilt. “And for Tuesday.”

“Do you believe you’ve offended me?” Hannibal asked, curiosity spiked in his tone and Will glanced back at him uncomfortably, but he didn’t speak a word. Hannibal smiled softly, looking down to somewhere by Will’s feet. “How was your session with Dr. Henries?”

“It was.. quite.. not good,” Will, confessed. “It’s the thing with the notes. It.. it annoys me.”

“Is that all it took for the session to be considered a failure?” Hannibal smiled, and if Will didn’t know any better, he’d say that Hannibal was unabashedly amused by Will’s shortcomings. It’s simply indecent.

“No,” Will sighed, feeling somewhat relaxed now that he knew he hadn’t upset the doctor by going behind his back. “She was far too.. I don’t like to feel like I’m being talked down to, or like I’m being put on display for someone to pick apart. She was really domineering. Much like you, but you’re a man so it’s different.”

Hannibal watched Will as the patient took his seat, and then he moved to take his own seat. “You feel as though when you’re not in control that you don’t have any strength, like you think people will see you as dependent. You don’t like loosing control because it makes you feel weak.”

“Correct,” Will said. “Stunning observation doctor.”

“But if you feel as though I’m exerting dominance or control over you, is it not because you’re giving me that power?” Hannibal asked, crossing his legs. “You have this expectation that a man is dominant and a woman is submissive. This idea is leading you into misfortune. You gain a strong, female psychiatrist and a male one, and you turn back to the male because having a woman exert power over you makes you feel even weaker than if a man did it.”

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a sexist pig,” Will said, furrowing his brow.

“What are you worried about?” Hannibal asked, and Will could see in his face that the man already knew what it was that he was so scared of.

Will fought the urge to bite his bottom lip out of sheer nervousness. “What do you think?”

“I think you felt powerless as a child, fighting for you mother’s affection was a battle you never won. You look for docile, female psychiatrists to get what you lacked as a child, the validation of a woman you see as being in power but one you feel control over,” Hannibal said, watching Will as his mouth gapes in shock. “You wouldn’t let a man have power over you because it reminds you of your father. You’re afraid that if you let a woman hold power over you that she will abuse it, and you’re afraid if you let a man hold power over you that you’d enjoy it.”

“You’re wrong about everything,” Will swallows dryly, unable to do anything but deny what the man had said. It’s all he could think to do to preserve the remaining strength he has. And then he stood to leave, making it only halfway to the door when Hannibal interrupted him. Hannibal stood in front of his path now, looking down at Will curiously.

“You have nothing to fear, and nothing to be ashamed of,” Hannibal said, watching the wide eyed patient as he glanced behind him to the door. “You aren’t weak if you give up your control and let others help you. That makes you stronger than most.”

With that he stepped aside, watching Will as he stormed past and tore open the door. And then he was gone, leaving Hannibal to go take his notes on the brief meeting. He would have to try and convince Will to stay next time. Will is wasting his money by doing this, and with more time he could properly help Will work through his issues. He doesn’t want Will to see the help he’s offering as useless and burning holes in his pockets. He’d like Will to see it as informative and helpful to his being.


	4. Meeting 4

“So we caught the guy,” Jack said, making friendly conversation as Will packs his things in his classroom. “And it’s all because of you.”

“Oh, give yourself credit Jack,” Will mused, smiling wide. “You helped a little.”

“Well it’s going to be a long time before he sees the outside world without barbed wired fences in the way,” Jack said, sighing contentedly before watching Will throw his bag over his shoulder. “Where are you in a rush to?”

“My psychiatrist,” Will said, beginning to leave but allowing Jack to fall in step beside him. “And that’s good. Those people he killed.. he deserves this.”

“So he’s working well for you?” Jack asked, opening the door to the exit with a cheeky smile. Will tilted his head like a confused puppy, then he walked out the door and waited for Crawford to follow. “Your psychiatrist. How’s that going?”

“Good, I think. Well, better anyway,” Will inhaled deeply. The air was damp and he found himself pulling his jacket tighter in the cold. “He’s a little arrogant, but I can deal with that.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Jack smiled, and now that the conversation was officially over, he turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

..

Will never made it to his appointment. As he drove home to get ready, a car slammed into the side of his own, running him off the road and into the snowy forest. His car rolled and he managed to scream even through his shock as he hit a tree head on. Then it was almost silent. He found himself covered in glass hanging upside down, blood dripping onto the ceiling which was now more accurately the floor. He couldn’t tell where he was injured but the pain was immeasurable.

He tried to reach for his phone and immediately his head felt like it was on fire and his vision was distorting reality. He had hit his head during the crash and blood was now pooling below him. He grabbed at his phone, but it was hard because he was seeing double, after a few tries he picked it up, but then he heard footsteps crunching in the snow and his relief was paramount.

“William, oh William,” he heard distantly. His eyes widened purely out of difficulty in seeing as the unknown man came around the side of the car. Will turned to face the window as the man knelt down in the snow and peeked inside. Will faintly recognized the man, but he was focusing so hard on not passing out the he couldn’t bring himself to try and remember who this might be. Clearly they knew him. “You look a little worse for ware, buddy.”

The man pouted sarcastically. Will reached for his gun then, only to have the man tear open the door and grab for Will’s arms. Will screamed, the sound made his head hurt so he stopped, fighting as best he could as the man unbuckled his belt and dragged him into the snow. With every space he was dragged through, Will left a bloody trail in the white snow.

“You did a bad thing Will, you and those scumbags at the F.B.I. I should slaughter you right here, but, I wanna make it last, and in that, I’ll need more time,” the man said, dropping Will abruptly. He stepped away from Will, making his way towards the tree line to see if there was anyone on the road. Will then rolled over onto his stomach, coughing blood as he tried to crawl to his phone and gun. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He felt the man grab his hair and yank him back so hard that for a second Will imagined his own neck snapping at the force, as the man began dragging Will towards his own car by his hair.

And that was all Will remembers before he blacked out with the pain.

..

One day Will watched a show called Sherlock. He liked the show because he felt he could relate deeply with the main character. He wasn’t doing his detective work for the same reason as Sherlock Holmes, but he could sympathize with a man who could see things everyone could not at a crime scene and being looked at like a freak because of it. It felt like he and Sherlock were not dissimilar. Anyway, there was a scene at the end of season one where Sherlock goes to meet the main antagonist and instead finds his friend and roommate John Watson there.

John tells Sherlock, “I bet you weren’t expecting this.” And there’s a moment where you think that he’s the antagonist, and you think Sherlock thinks he’s been betrayed. But, it turns out it’s only the real antagonist playing with Sherlock, and you feel a sense of relief that the doctor is just as you thought he was and not some evil mastermind. This situation is not unlike that one.

When Will awakes, Dr. Lecter is leaning over him with a needle and thread, pulling it taut before pressing it back into Will’s stomach. Will flinches out of pain, furrowing his brows in confusion. His eyes go wide as he looks at Hannibal, and Hannibal glances up at his face and gives a soft smile.

“You’re finally awake,” Lecter says, pulling the needle back once more, tightening the stitch. He then cuts the thread, placing the needle to the side. Will tries to sit up but then changes his mind when he feels an intense pain all over. “You took quite the beating.”

“What’s going on?” Will asked, shocked and confused. His brain begins to make connections and he feels a stab of fear. “Did you and he..? are you-“

“Tell Jack Crawford that Will is awake,” Hannibal says, fixing his gaze above Will’s head. Will had thought that Hannibal had orchestrated all this to kidnap and torture him. Why? He doesn’t know, but relief is beginning to settle in now and he finds himself less on edge.

“What’s happening?” Will asked, craning his head back and meeting eyes with two F.B.I agents. 

“You were kidnapped,” Hannibal says, looking indifferent. “You’re lucky we found you when we did. He had a gun to your head.”

“Who?” Will asked, glancing down at his bare stomach. He was coated in blood and stitches, his entire stomach seemed to have been covered in cuts. “I don’t remember anything..”

“Don’t worry yourself with that now,” Hannibal said, resting one hand over Will’s stomach. Will hissed as he looked down to where they were connected. Hannibal’s hands were so big, and Will felt a sense of childlike wonder, like when he used to compare his small hand to his father’s as a little boy. He wanted to compare their hand sizes now. Instead Hannibal pulled his hand away and wiped the fresh blood onto a nearby towel. “That should do it. You’ll be fine.”

Will stared at him, even more confused now than he had been before. “Do you know what happened to me?”

“I do,” Hannibal said, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other. Will was sprawled out of the couch of a cabin and Hannibal had a chair pulled up beside him. “But you don’t need to know.”

"I want to know," Will urged, trying once again to sit up. This time he manages to lift himself enough to lay against the arm rest, flinching with the waves of pain that shoot up his spine. "Please. I can take it."

"Kyle Gray," Hannibal says watching as an expression of recognition flashed across Will's face.

"The brother," Will said, shutting his eyes. "The man who killed all of those people. Eli Gray. Kyle was the brother."

"Yes," Hannibal said, looking down solemnly. "It seems he was working down a list. You were the third victim. Kyle Gray ran your car off the road. You crashed. As your psychiatrist it would be inappropriate to tell you anything more that could upset you in this state."

"The other victims?" Will said, clearing his throat. 

"Witnesses to Eli Gray's crimes. People who put him away," Hannibal said. "If you're well enough to move, I can take you home."

Just then Jack came in, Jack went about this by telling Will he was sorry this happened to him, that the man is in jail now and that Will should take a break and go home to get some sleep. Will promptly agreed and allowed Jack to help him to his feet.

..

The drive back to Will's home in Wolf Trap was silent and awkward with Hannibal and Will not even exchanging chit chat. Hannibal stared out of the front windshield quietly while Will napped against the cold glass, his body weak and tired. Occasionally Will would glance over and watch Hannibal. See, Will has this newfound fascination with the man. He's curious about him. He wonders how Hannibal found out he was in danger if he did at all. There'd be no reason for the F.B.I to call his psychiatrist. It's an intriguing mystery.

When they arrived at Will's home, Hannibal stared at the house with an unusual amount of wonder. "This is very quaint."

"How?" Will scoffed, slowly getting out of the car as he fought the pain. What he needs is some aspirin.

"It just is," Hannibal said, ripping his gaze from the home when he hears Will grunting with pain. Will is leaning against the car, his face twisted in hurt. He quickly rushes to Will's side, wrapping an arm around his lower back. "Here, let me help you inside."

"Thank you doctor," Will mumbled, allowing himself to be lead up the steps and to his door. "I'm curious how you found me. How you even knew I was in danger."

"Purely coincidence," Hannibal said, holding Will upright as he fiddles with his keys and unlocks the door, leaning against Hannibal who then lead him to his bed and laid him down. "I'm friends with a woman you may know, Alana Bloom. She called on me to help her write up a psychological profile of the person who kidnapped you, and when I heard it was a patient of mine who was in danger, I insisted I be more involved. The F.B.I. were quick to find your car and the identity of the man who had taken you hostage. Took less than two days."

"Nice," Will said, unsure of what else to say as he settled in his bed and pulled the sheets over himself. "Now that you're here, if you aren't busy, do you wanna make up for the appointment I missed?"

Hannibal accepted, taking a seat in the chair by Will's bed. For a moment they sat in silence before Will finally broke it.

"My mother beat me," he confessed, gazing up into Hannibal's eyes. Hannibal took a breath, leaning back in his chair. "When my dad was alive, my mum would beat me even then. I can't remember it though. And, I can't remember what Kyle Gray did to me now. It's like my brain just couldn't handle it. And back then it made sense because I was young and it must have been traumatic, but I'm a grown man now."

"Our brains deal with trauma in many different ways," Hannibal assured. "Disassociation is a valid way to deal with a traumatic experience that can prove to be too difficult for the brain to handle. The stress of trauma can cause the loss of a memory entirely, and it may be for the best."

"But what if I want to remember?" Will asked. "I want to know."

Hannibal just sat quietly, watching Will as he got more comfortable. "You don't."

After a long silence, Hannibal changed the subject. "I want to talk about your father."

Will took a deep breath, the wound he left in Will when he passed away was still fresh.

"You previously told me your mother became cruel with his death, but she had been abusing you before that," Hannibal said. "What did your father have to say about that?"

"My father.." Will looked up at the ceiling, folding his hands over his chest. "My father was weak. He let her do what he wanted. She walked all over him. He never tried to stop it."

"And you didn't resent him for that," Hannibal observed. "But you resented the power she had over him. You fear lack of control against women because you're afraid of what you'll let slide, and the way a woman would treat you because of that."

Will didn't say anything, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

"But you don't seem to understand that by focusing on a woman and her control, you open the way for a man to take power over you," Hannibal paused for a moment, eyes locked on Will as he continues. "Or maybe that's what you want. You want a man to prove his power and control. You're not afraid of a man abusing their power over you, but you are afraid you'll be into it."

Will looked at him then, eyes wide. And they stared at each other for an unacceptably long time.


End file.
